A/N: Yay! It's my thirtieth fanfic! *throws confetti* Wow, hard to believe I've been on this site for almost three years...

Anywho, the song lyrics are from "Dream Brother" by Jeff Buckley.

At the Bottom of Everything

The love you lost with her skin so fair
Is free with the wind in her butterscotch hair
Her green eyes blew goodbyes
With her head in her hands
and your kiss on the lips of another
Dream Brother, with your tears scattered round the world.

He swilled his drink a few more times before downing the rest of his beer. Japanese music permeated the thick air of the crowded Tokyo nightclub as he slammed his now-empty glass on the scratched wooden table in front of him. The glass he'd just discarded was accompanied by several others, the majority of which had tipped over and now lay dejectedly on the tabletop. He felt nauseous; all these dancing people, the too-sweet voice of the singer filtering from the radio, the sweltering heat were all too much for him, and he rolled off his wooden chair, climbed crookedly to his feet, and staggered gracelessly out the front door. After squeezing past a giggling couple who were trying to enter the club while he was attempting to exit, he finally stumbled out into the cool night air and promptly keeled over and vomited. Feeling marginally better, he ignored the puke on his boots and meandered down to the beach.

The moon was not quite full, and when he shuffled onto the beach the first thing he noticed was that the light from the moon gave the white sand a pale golden sheen. The colour was not unlike that of Margaret's hair, and the connection between the present and the past, and the reason he was so sloshed, collided with an almighty crash in his brain, and he fell to his knees on the soft sand.

Margaret...he remembered Margaret. She had left him...why had he let her go? She had looked so torn when she left, so betrayed and vulnerable, and still breathtakingly beautiful in spite of her bloodshot eyes and trembling lower lip. And then she had shut the door behind her, and he hadn't seen her again until last week, when he had visited her MASH unit in Korea and had noticed her soft glances and small smiles directed at one Benjamin Franklin Hawkeye Pierce.

She had always expressed a strong dislike for Captain Pierce, because Captain Pierce was a womanizing, arrogant rule- breaker who did not respect the Army in the same way that she (a born and raised Army-brat) did. The man was constantly challenging authority, a habit that had irked Margaret and himself to no end. So why why why had she been displaying such affection toward Pierce? Perhaps it was just to get back at him?

He snorted. Yes, he had hurt her immensely by cheating on her, but he doubted she would lower herself to that level. She was too proud to do such a thing. But that would mean...that she had a genuine fondness for Pierce! Ugh! The thought was too much and he felt bile rising in his throat. He rolled onto his stomach and retched again. Stupid liquor. Stupid Pierce. Stupid Donald Penobscott, for letting the love of his life walk away.

His throat was screaming for water, and his head was throbbing with the distant but unrelenting beats of music drifting from the nightclubs. He crawled clumsily over the sand until he reached the ocean's edge, where the sand was dark and dense with water, and the waves brushed against his wrists. His limbs gave out, and he collapsed onto the wet sand, rotating himself so that he lay splayed out on his back.

He was vaguely aware of how pathetic he must look, sprawled brokenly on a Tokyo beach at night. He used to be so proud and assertive. When he had barked orders, people had hastened to follow them. Even after Margaret had gone, he had retained some dignity and forcefulness. It was Pierce; the fact that Pierce had captured Margaret's hardened heart, that had shattered him.

Yes, how the mighty had fallen, and landed on a lonely beach, left with not one iota of respect or decorum left to buoy himself up from his pool of self-pity.

The sky was spinning, the stars creating swirling lines and the moon scything his last shred of consciousness.

"Margaret..." he murmured to no one, before passing out. The water swept placidly against him while he slept.

I feel afraid and I call your name
I love your voice and your dance insane
I hear your words and I know your pain
Your head in your hands and her kiss on the lips of another
Your eyes to the ground
and the world spinning round forever
Asleep in the sand with the ocean washing over...